


this home we’ve built is paradise

by baechus (baeridescent)



Category: NU'EST, Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Pet Hybrid!AU, Pining, Romance, Temporarily Unrequited Love, also when i say angst i don’t really know what that means but, i thought about sharing the suffering, i was in pain when i thought of it so, this may sound furry-esque but it’s Not (really)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeridescent/pseuds/baechus
Summary: Minhyun has never owned a Pet, never even dreamed of it. Strangely, perhaps luckily, Joohyun has never really had a real owner.
Relationships: Hwang Minhyun/Bae Joohyun (Irene)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	this home we’ve built is paradise

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic on this account and i’m not 100% familiar with the ins and outs of ao3 and also this pairing is a whole crackship please be gentle. 
> 
> but anyway! i’m here simply to write something ( i think ) that is pretty cute! very soft! a lot of fluff! some pain but it’s okay because we give out free bandaids! i love this pairing to death like i would truly take a bullet for them and so. this came to be! 
> 
> i will dedicate this to my precious bun, who is subject to my endless and constant ramblings about minrene. thank you for putting up with me and for loving them as much as i do. :’)
> 
> i hope that if you clicked here by chance or accident or out of curiosity, this is something you can enjoy!

Minhyun has an early morning meeting tomorrow.

It’s what he’d told Aron before they’d gone out to see the new _Terminator_ movie together— _“Let’s pick an earlier showing, hyung. I have to be in by seven-thirty.”_ So they had— and they would have made pretty good time, too, if not for the older man’s big heart.

Although, he really shouldn’t complain; having a good heart isn’t necessarily a flaw for anyone, especially if it means other people are better off for it, too. Minhyun should know he’s a prime example of this; it’s why he’s sitting in the passenger’s seat of Aron’s car listening to choppy NPR with his window cracked open two inches. With his own car in the repair shop all week, he’d been bracing himself for hellish 6AM commute, but Aron had come to the rescue, even shooting down Minhyun’s insistence that the studio was well out of the other man’s way to the hospital or that he should at least shoulder gas expenses. All Aron had said was that “he might catch a glimpse of a superstar” when he drops Minhyun off or picks him up, which, apparently, is payment enough.

But it also means that Minhyun has no choice but to agree when Aron says he wants to drop by the shelter “to check on the kids.”

They’re not actually kids — he just likes to call them that. It’s a little strange to Minhyun that anyone can get so attached to their pets enough to think of them as actual friends or kids or anything resembling human-to-human relationships — although, he guesses, that Pets are a bit of a different story, what with their hybrid nature. He’s heard from some Pet owners that it’s kind of like having a grown-up hyper kid that just stays a kid _forever,_ and he’s not sure if that’s supposed to be an exciting thing or a terrifying one.

Whatever the case, Aron’s big heart extends to all of that indiscriminately. He says it’s fine being a “doctor for humans,” but he’s always had a soft spot for pet (or Pet) care and probably would have pursued some kind of career in it if his parents had actually let him, which is why he volunteers at this rescue center downtown instead. It’s not the worst place in the world, even if it appears to be a repurposed police station or something, but it’s situated in a neighborhood that’s definitely seen its fair share of crime. Minhyun decides to exit the car and go up with Aron into the shelter despite knowing that doing so means he won’t be able to breathe properly for the next hour or two; it’s the better option in comparison to someone coming and mugging him outside. He has to say ‘no’ to two volunteers there when they ask him if he’s come with the interest to adopt.

“We’re just trying to get as much adopters as possible,” Aron explains, pushing into the main compound. Minhyun can already feel his nose clogging up and he starts trying to take advantage of what little space is left in his sinuses by inhaling more and more, which he belatedly realizes only expedites the allergic reaction. Not that it matters; the sheer volume of fur that collectively exists in the hall they enter forces him to breathe only through his mouth. “I mean, the place is _technically_ fine considering all the refurbishing we’ve done over the last couple of years, but it’s nowhere near the comfort of an actual home.”

Minhyun can see that; he can see the effort despite the absolutely depressing fact that they’re basically in holding cells. They’re clean spaces, and the team have slapped bright paint on the concrete walls and laid down huge rugs with pillows and a few toys strewn across to make the spaces more homey. There are even little decorative lines with names in funky fonts along the cell doors, most of which are open, allowing some of the Pets to walk around freely and visit each other if they want to. But they’re still cages, even if they are painted cute shades of pastel.

“But they’re okay with this?” His voice sounds terrible. “Living in cells, just waiting around for someone to come and rescue them?”

“Well, the staff usually do activities with them to keep them preoccupied; it’s not like they’re puppies that just sleep when they’re bored, so they do games, exercise in the yard, or they even do arts and crafts. Most of those name tags you see across the doors were handmade.” Aron shrugs. “But most of them are just happy to be off the streets, you know? Even if things are a little uncomfortable here, they like having their own time, or feeling safe, or just being better-fed. And sometimes a kind soul will come and adopt someone, and it’s nice.”

Minhyun saves himself from the embarrassing obligation to respond by trying to draw in air through his nose to no avail.

Maybe he’s just not cut out for Pet ownership. Scratch that — he knows he isn’t. No matter how nice or cute they are or how enticing it is to have someone be excited to see you when you walk through the door after a long day at work, they’re more high maintenance than pets, which are often high maintenance enough. Having a Pet means paying for another actual person in your home, except their diets are weird and they sometimes shed, two of many things he wouldn’t know how to deal with on a daily basis.

“Then how come you don’t have a Pet?" He asks Aron, who’s straightening up an empty bed meticulously. There’s a little garland around the bars of the cell that says _Minki ≧◡≦_ , but whoever owns this space isn’t around, it seems. “I mean, it looks like you’d be great having one.”

“I really want to, but I just don’t have the space right now. I’m actually saving up for a bigger apartment to be able to adopt one, but I also can’t afford to tire myself out with a move right now. Maybe when things settle down at work, I will.” Aron places a toy that had rolled under the bed on the pillow before standing back to admire his work. “What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Don’t you want to adopt a pet? You’ve got that guest bedroom, and things seem to be going really well for you, Mister My-Title-Track-Just-Hit-Gold.”

“It’s not my title track,” Minhyun’s face heats up, which _cannot_ be anything good for his nasal passages. “It’s Jin-ah’s, and you know it.”

“You wrote it, Minhyun. Just take the compliment,” Aron chuckles. “But seriously — I’m sure we can find a cute Puppy to steal your heart.”

Minhyun points to his nose gloomily. "Allergies.”

“Some Pets are hypoallergenic.”

“I just don’t think I’ll be any good as a Pet owner, hyung,” he admits. “I’m rarely home, and I don’t know the first thing about taking care of them. I’ll just make things harder for them.”

“If you say so. I just thought you might at least like someone to clap for you at two in the morning when you’re banging away on that piano.”

“I’ll install an app or something.”

They go like this for twenty more minutes, Minhyun hanging out at the doorway of cells and Aron just going about his way doing little checks and chatting with any Pets or staff that he encounters. One particularly excitable Puppy manages to nuzzle a pound of fur onto Minhyun’s sweater before it dashes off, and Aron has the audacity to laugh at his shellshocked state before he starts helping with the task of picking off the little hairs from the fabric.

Minhyun doesn’t want to be rude and ask the other to hurry, but the minutes wear on, and Aron seems like he plans on making it all the way to the end without simply passing by a single cell. It’s embarrassing when he notices Minhyun checking his watch and says “one last visit, I promise,” so Minhyun sheepishly accedes and tells him to take his time.

The cell they visit is locked, which is weird to him; it seems a little cruel especially in comparison to all the others, and he notices that it’s not a particularly well-decorated place. The rug is literally just that — no toys, no pillows, no random crayon lying around. The walls are painted a pretty pastel purple, but there’s nothing on them, and even the tag on the door is just a printed jumble of letters and numbers that read 1R3N3. At least the air is better here— Minhyun can breathe through his nose with minimal whistling, probably because the rest of the cells in the area are unused.

“That’s not weird at all.” Minhyun points to the tag. Aron doesn’t even laugh; he just fumbles in his bag for something while Minhyun peers closer at the figure on the bed.

It’s a Kitten, he realizes, not a Puppy; the long tail and the pointed ears give it away. He’s definitely not an expert, but she looks closer to Cat than Kitten, or maybe something directly in between; it’s harder to tell because of her small build. She hasn’t even turned to look at them, even though they’d made a lot of noise coming up to this cell, which either meant she was hard of hearing or just plain ignoring them. She just sits unnervingly straight, staring down at a book on on her lap, but she doesn’t even flip a page, so he can only assume it’s a strategy to avoid interaction.

Aron’s extracting a medium-sized tupperware from his backpack that looks like a homemade dosirak when Minhyun asks, “So I’m guessing she’s not the friendliest feline?”

“Yeah, we’ve had to keep the door locked here at her request; she hates it when other Pets approach her. She actually kind of hates it when staff approach her, too.”

“Like she bites?”

“No, she just doesn’t like it. She gets tense, or she hides, or something. We’ve actually been having a problem with her eating, because she barely does, and we think it’s probably because she got used to a really fancy diet, which we can’t really afford, either, so we’re just going on trial and error.”

Aron crouches down and places the tupperware on the rug, opening the lid and letting the scent waft. It smells faintly of fish and something else he can’t fully understand, but it seems spicy. His voice takes on a different quality all of a sudden, like he’s trying to put baby deer to sleep.

“Rene-ah, I brought you dinner,” he practically coos through the bars. “Why don’t you try a little? I made it less salty this time, so maybe you’ll like it.”

“Rene?” Minhyun whispers when Aron straightens up again.

“Shot in the dark. We don’t actually know her name, so we just—“ He gestures vaguely to the tag on the door. “Some staff members picked her up wandering around this area, and she said she was looking for the center, but after they brought her here, she wouldn’t say anything. Most of us have assumed she’s from The Complex though.”

Minhyun's heard about that too — some extremely upscale area in the already-upscale Gangnam that’s gated and has its own SWAT team, or something. Only people with money to burn live there, and they all have actual houses, which is just an extremely on-the-nose way to spit on common folk who mostly live in apartments. Nobody really knows much about what goes on in there, but rumors filter out from time to time, and the most prevalent one is that Complex residents are the reason Pets exist at all; thanks to funding from a bunch of rich people, some geneticists had been able to create hybrids successfully, and suddenly everyone there had to have one.

Of course, that really didn’t stay exclusive for very long, and soon they were everywhere, but there’s still the general assumption that Complex residents have Pets that they keep for service, whatever that means. Not that anyone sees them or knows if that’s even true — there’s that big, obnoxious gate, after all, and it’s not like they usually let their Pets run free past it.

“How can you tell?”

“Again, just assumption, but she’s tagged." Minhyun’s vision zeroes in on a thin, black band around her neck. “And she’s also kind of… well —“

Aron looks uncomfortable, but Minhyun suspects that even if he ends up saying she’s batshit crazy, she wouldn’t move an inch anyway.

“She’s kind of a snob, like I said. She won't talk to anyone, and she barely eats, and she’s never joined a single activity. She just reads or listens to the radio and occasionally glares at people when they make too much noise in this area. We can really only assume, but… you know. Complex residents, Complex Pets. Probably all the same kind of aura.”

It’s hard to argue with that logic, so Minhyun doesn’t.

The dosirak on the rug smells great, but 1R3N3 doesn’t even acknowledge it; Minhyun notices that her ears prick up slightly when Aron speaks again, though, so she must be listening, even though she’s putting all of her energy into pretending otherwise.

“Rene-ah, I came with a friend.” He does his best to sound jovial, but it seems a little too much to be realistic. “His name is Minhyun, and he’s a really famous producer. You like music, don’t you? I bet Minhyun could recommend some nice songs for you while you eat.”

There’s no response, which is just as well, because Minhyun’s mind is blank in terms of recommendations, anyway.

“Well, anyway,” Aron sighs after Minhyun finally and uselessly comes up with a couple of songs, minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant, “I hope the food’s to your liking. I’ll come by again soon, okay? Maybe later this week.”

The visit ends the way it started, with cool silence from inside the cell and Minhyun rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and taking cautious inhales through his mouth. She just sits there, staring at her battered copy of _Paradise Lost_ , which would have been such a strange thing to be invested in if he hadn’t noticed, a little belatedly, that the book was upside down on her lap. He doesn’t have the heart to mention it to Aron — maybe he may have noticed, but if he hasn’t, it makes sense to just let him believe that she’s distracted by something as riveting as a thousand-page epic poem from who knows when.

On their way home, Aron talks about this new place he’s been looking at — a boarding house for the Pets, with a nice big garden with a well that they could probably say is one for wishing. They just need the funding for it — maybe an approved loan to cushion the financial blow. He seems excited about it, almost running a red light just talking about the possibility of the kids having their own rooms, and it’s so strangely infectious that Minhyun promises to help out and donate.

But beyond that, nothing major really sticks with him; the moment his head hits his pillow, he falls into a sleep filled with blurry dreams of wonky name tags and an allergic reaction that turns his hair a vivid purple.


End file.
